I gobble up my porridge, drink my coffee then finish up getting ready for work.
‘Ken’s downstairs. Do you have his number?’ Jackson asks, still munching his way through poached eggs on toast.
‘Gregory put it in my phone last night.’
‘All right. Call me if you need anything. Let’s try not to do anything to make the crazy fool jump straight back on that jet home.’
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. ‘Yes, Dad.’
‘There’s no need for cheek, girl. I’ll be at Lara’s this afternoon seeing Sandy but I’ll be back tonight.’
My eyebrow instinctively rises.
‘Get out of here!’ Jackson snaps, clearly suppressing a smirk.
Kenneth drives me to work where Margaret has left a latte on my desk with my mail. I’ve got one conference call this afternoon, otherwise I can get my head down into some documents.
First, I dial my favourite contact at the firm.
‘Hey, foxy lady!’
‘Hello yourself. Gregory’s been his stubborn self and made me another appointment with the Fashion Police at Harrods tomorrow. Come with me?’
‘Now, now, don’t be like that; Lucas was a delight, the cute little thing.’
‘You mean when he wasn’t stealing our carbs and telling me I make designer dresses look like a sack of potatoes?’
She laughs and I know her head will be thrown back in her chair. ‘He didn’t say that; he just said, “Ew, darling, that’s all wrong.”’
‘Same thing. I need another evening dress and some country clothes.’
‘Country? But you’re City.’
‘Yes, apparentlyCitydoesn’t work for fox hunting.’
‘Fox hunting! Bloody hell! Where?’
‘No idea. The country somewhere.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Yup. So you’ll come to Harrods tomorrow? We could have agirls’ night in with a bottle of wine after.’ I silently beg her to say yes and not leave me in the apartment alone.
‘I’m there.’
‘Great, thank you. Now let me work out how on earth I’m supposed to disconnect this call.’
There’s no need. Amanda’s obviously sussed this damned technology and the line goes dead.
Abdulla Ghurair’s work keeps me distracted for most of the day but the space-from-Gregory thing really isn’t going to plan. I miss him immensely. By lunchtime, I’m starting to wonder whether he’ll have landed in China yet; he must be close. Will he call me or text me to let me know he’s landed safely? I have a wave of irrational fear that something could’ve happened to him mid-flight and I’m exceptionally grateful when Outlook flashes a reminder on my screen that Neil and I have the distraction of a call with Abdulla at two thirty.
With one ear engaged on the call and the other listening for any sign that Gregory has landed safely in China, I continually check my emails and text messages but nothing comes. Then I’m dragged away from my distractions by the inevitable matter of a secondment to Dubai. Abdulla seems set on the idea of me being the secondee. Neil doesn’t say a final decision hasn’t been made but thankfully buys us a couple of weeks before we have to confirm that request because, as he explains to Abdulla, there are more pressing matters to deal with in the first instance. I can breathe a sigh of relief for now but I’ll have to make the decision imminently. The way I’m feeling, beside myself with complete nonsensical and unfounded worry, tied up in knots at the thought that I’m missing Gregory so much already, I might not make it to Friday with my sanity intact. There’s no way I can accept the secondment.
Suppose I decide not to go.Would it really be that bad?I refuse a potentially enormous client and let Neil and the firm down. There’s no way around it; if I don’t go, I’ll be placed indefinitely in the not-concerned-about-the-interests-of-the-firm bracket.
I call Jackson just after four.
‘Scarlett? Is everything okay?’
